Chapter Text
After Everything
Part I
Palus was a dull, stagnant world of decay and ever growing unease. The air was thick with the smell of stagnant water and what you hoped was only rotting vegetation. The ground was soft and squishy underfoot, as if it were alive and breathing. The trees were gnarled and twisted, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers, and the vines that clung to them were thick and slimy, like snakes waiting to strike.
The water was dark and murky, and it teemed with all manner of creatures, both seen and unseen. The surface was alive with the movement of things that lurked just beneath, and the sound of their slithering and splashing was a constant reminder of their presence.
The sun barely penetrated the thick canopy of trees above, casting everything beneath in a sickly green light. Shadows danced and writhed on the ground in time with the sound of insects buzzing and chirping.
There was a sense of danger with every step on bedevilled grounds. And nothing, not the stirring of the most basic lifeform nor the rustling of leaves could be taken for granted. It was a place where the natural order of things seemed to have been turned upside down, and the line between life and death was blurred. You were small, insignificant, and vulnerable, and the slightest misstep could mean the end of your life.
Peter and Rocket pushed forward through the murky swamp water, their boots sinking with each step. The air was thick with the smell of rotting vegetation and stagnant water. As they waded further into the swamp, the water grew deeper, reaching up to Rocket's chest. The raccoon's eyes darted nervously around, scanning the muddy water for any signs of danger.
Rocket couldn’t conceal a shocked gasp as a loud splash suddenly sounded from behind him. Peter spun around, his hand going instinctively to his blaster, but he saw nothing.
"Rocket, what's wrong?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.
"I don't know,” Rocket swallowed, “but I think there’s something following us,” he said, his voice laden with tension.
Peter nodded, his eyes scanning the water. He couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, but he knew that didn't mean there wasn't something lurking beneath the surface.
"Stay close to me," he said, extending his hand to the raccoon.
Rocket hesitated for a moment, then grabbed onto Peter's hand tightly. The two of them waded forward, their steps slow and cautious.
As they moved further and further into the swamp, the water grew deeper still. The water came up to Peter’s shoulders now , and every step he took, he could feel the slimy mud pulling him down. Rocket had to cling to Peter’s back now to keep from sinking.
As Peter, trudged through the thick, soupy mud of the swamp, the smell of rot and decay grew stronger, making him gag. The water was thick with algae and other unidentifiable substances, and he could barely see in front of him. The only comfort he had was that he could feel the weight of Rocket on his back, as he clung to him for dear life.
“Hey, Rocket, why did the chicken cross the road?" Peter said, trying to keep his voice light. Rocket remained silent, and his grip around Peter’s neck tightened. Peter could feel the fear radiating from his friend’s body. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t afraid himself. They were completely lost, and there was a strong possibility they were being followed too. They had to get the hell out of there.
“Rocky?”
“What?” Rocket groaned.
“Hey,” Peter said reaching up to squeeze his hand, “Stay with me, okay? ‘Sides, this isn’t so bad. Kinda reminds me of Empire when Luke is going through training and has to carry Yoda around.” Rocket huffed a small laugh. Peter smiled, as the hands around his neck loosened just a bit.
“You calling me a magical old troll, Quill?”
“Maybe not magical and old. Verdicts still out for troll though—Ow!” Peter let out chuckle that turned into a surprised yelp when Rocket nipped at his ear.
He’s about to say more when he all of a sudden he felt something brush against his calf before completely tangling around his legs. He tried to regain his footing, but in doing so, lost his balance. Peter went down sending him and Rocket crashing down into the water.
“Rocket!” Peter spluttered as he resurfaced.
He frantically scanned around the swamp, looking for any sign of Rocket. The water around him shuddered for a moment and exploded as a pair of hands emerged, flailing desperately.
“Pete!” Rocket called out as his face finally broke the surface. He struggled to stay afloat, his body thrashing wildly as he gasped for air.
"Rocket! Hang on, buddy, I'm coming!" Peter shouted, his voice echoing through the swamp. He pushed himself harder, his arms and legs churning through the water as he tried to reach Rocket, but something was still caught around his legs. He could feel himself growing weaker.
"Peter! I can’t!" Rocket cried out, his voice choked with fear.
"Grab on to me!" Peter shouted, reaching out to grab the raccoon's hand. Rocket tried to grab Peter’s hand, but it was no use. He was too weak. Peter lunged forward, stretching his arm out as far as he could. His fingers brushed against Rocket's, and he felt a spark of hope. But just as quickly, Rocket's hand slipped from his grasp. Peter watched in horror as Rocket disappeared back under the water. His head bobbed above the water for a moment, and he gasped for air. Peter could see the fear and resignation in his friend's eyes.
"Rocket, please!" Peter begged, his voice breaking. "Please don't give up!"
But Rocket was too weak to respond. He couldn't hold on any longer, and he slipped beneath the surface of the water.
Peter dove in after him, but the water was too murky, and he couldn't see anything. His hands felt around blindly, trying to find Rocket, but no matter which way he turned, he remained empty handed.
Finally, he had to come up for air. He gasped for breath.
“Rocket!” Peter shouted for him, but there was no answer. The only sound was that of his own splashing through the water. He stretched out his arms prepared to swim forward again when his hand brushed against something in the water.
Peter froze.
It was small, cold, lifeless.
He pulled it towards him, his hands shaking with dread as he lifted them. A strangled gasp tore out of Peter as he peered down at his best friend.
Rocket's small body was limp and still, his fur wet and matted from the swamp. His eyes were closed, and his hands were limp at his sides. He looked so small and vulnerable, so unlike the lively and adventurous person he had always been.
“Rocket, come on buddy," Peter pleaded, his voice choked with emotion. "You gotta wake up."
But Rocket remained still. Peter shook him gently, hoping against hope that he would stir, but there was no response.
"Rocket, please," Peter whispered, tears streaming down his face as he looked down at his friend's lifeless form. Rocket was still and cold, his eyes closed as if he were sleeping. But Peter knew the truth. Rocket was gone, and there was nothing he could do to bring him back.
“I need you." He finally sobbed, cradling his body against his chest.
And as all his memories came flooding in: all the times they had laughed together, the times they had fought side by side, the times they had shared their hopes and dreams, Peter could feel his heart breaking into a million pieces. He tucked Rocket’s head beneath his chin and screamed with all the power of his soul, until there was nothing left but the sound of the swamp.
Peter woke up in a cold sweat, his heart racing and his breaths coming in short gasps. He sat up in bed, his hands shaking as he tried to calm himself down. He knew it was just a dream, but it felt so real. He couldn't shake the image of Rocket so vibrant and full of life, motionless.
He got out of bed and walked over to the window, looking out at the stars. He knew he couldn't go back to sleep, not with the fear still gripping his chest. He needed to clear his head, to get away from the nightmare that was still haunting him.
So he decided to go for a walk.
As he walked, he found himself thinking about Rocket anyway. How much he had come to rely on him, how much he had come to care for him. The thought of losing him…
Peter's heart was still pounding in his chest when he nearly collided into a door. It took him a moment to register, but he soon realized he was standing outside Rocket's room. He reached up to open the door but hesitated for a moment, wondering if he was overreacting.
“He’s fine”, Peter tried to reassure himself, “He’s probably sleeping.”
Rocket's small body was limp and still, his fur wet and matted from the swamp. His eyes were closed, and his hands were limp at his sides.
Peter felt a tightness in his chest, as if something was squeezing the air out of him. He struggled to take a deep breath, his body trembling with panic. He opened the door and peeked inside.
The room was dark, with only a faint light filtering in from outside, but Peter could make out Rocket's silhouette in the bed, his chest rising and falling with each breath.
Peter let out a shaky sigh and stepped into the room. He carefully sat down on the edge of the bed and watched Rocket sleep for a moment. He felt a wave of relief wash over him as he realized that he was okay. But even as he watched Rocket lying peacefully, the memories of his nightmare still came rushing back.
He tried to push those thoughts away, but they kept creeping back, filling him with an sense of dread and despair. He saw Rocket in the water, slack faced and unmoving. The image was so vivid that even when Peter closed his eyes he could still smell the rotting air, feel the water sloshing around his body, hear Rocket screaming for him.
"Peter?" Rocket's voice was groggy and muffled.
Peter scrubbed a hand down his face and looked down at his friend. "Yeah, Rocket, it's me.
Rocket sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes in confusion. He had a million and one questions he wanted to ask that gets shredded down to one once he looks at Peter. Really looks at him.
Peter's eyes were wide and his hands shook as he tried to steady himself. His breathing was fast and shallow, and his chest rose and fell rapidly. His face was pale, almost as if all the blood had drained from it. He looked like a man who had seen too much, who had been pushed to the brink of his limits and was just barely managing to hold it together. It was only a matter of time before he broke.
"You okay?” Rocket asked instead.
“Yeah,” Peter breathed, “Yeah, just a bad dream.”
Rocket hummed because that was bullshit.
“You wanna talk about it?” Rocket frowned in concern. Peter’s face cycled through a variety of emotions, before he finally shook his head.
“No. Sorry for waking you.” He stood up and made to leave when suddenly there was a sharp tug on the back of his shirt that sent him falling back down and onto the bed. Before he could protest, he was being pulled into a tight hug. Peter hesitated, his body stiffening in surprise. But then he felt the warmth of Rocket's body against his own, and he felt a wave of emotion wash over him. A shuddering breath escapes Peter as his arms came up to encircle Rocket.
Rocket held onto Peter tightly, feeling the weight of his friend's pain in his own heart. He didn't say anything, he didn't need to.
Peter closed his eyes, and for the first time in days felt the weight of his fears start to lift off his shoulders.
“Thanks Rocket.” Peter whispered.
Rocket mumbled something incoherent, but Peter knew he had heard him. He tightened his hold, listening to the sound of Rocket's breathing and the feeling of his heartbeat, and drifted off into a peaceful slumber.